


Crows

by OneTrueStudent



Series: Sketches [3]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-04-27 18:43:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5059819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneTrueStudent/pseuds/OneTrueStudent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is connected to the "Mara" sketch.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is connected to the "Mara" sketch.

1

Jusu Kabir thought of her uncle's car like him. It was low, threatening, and very dark. She'd first seen it in summer time at noon, when her brother Jack had been bitten by the snake. Her mother had left her alone, and she had sat in the middle of the living room floor with her mother's phone in her little fists. The house had been very quiet. There were snakes in the bushes. 

Uncle Daren had arrived, her mother's brother. He was white, but darker than her father or anyone from that side of her family. She remembered him, vaguely, from an official meeting at her grandparent's house. Both times he'd worn a forbidding suit, and he had been very polite. She had never hugged him. 

When he came to her house, he'd appeared from the silence and said nothing, sitting down across from her on the carpet. She didn't want to look around, and she didn't want to look down. The carpet was thick and green, and the couch had a leafy pattern. There were snakes in the bushes. They rattled, and one had bit her brother. Her mother had left her, and now she was home alone. There were bushes all around the house.

Uncle Daren's phone rang. It was a sterile chirp, not really a ringtone. He didn't have any music.

"In your living room with Jusu," he said.

Her mother's voice was very faint, but it made Jusu look up from the thick carpet.

"Here," he said and pushed his phone at her. It was matte black with metal parts. Even where he held it, it was cold. That's because he was wearing gloves. Those weren't his hands.

"Mom?" she asked.

"I'm here, baby. I love you so much. Your brother is here too, and the doctors are with taking care of him. He's going to be fine."

"Oh."

"Oh, baby," whispered her mother, and the stream of words was terrible. 

Mom never cried. Dad sometimes did, never Mom. Mom got cold. Mom was fighting it now, but she was losing. Every word was getting colder, and she kept saying she loved her, that everyone was going to be all right, but Jusu began to shiver. Uncle Daren said nothing, sitting like a kid on the carpet in his scary black suit. His tie was the same color as his shirt, and it moved when he did. She couldn't see it very well. It was slithering up his chest with its head by his neck. 

Jusu realized she was giving him his phone. He took it and put it to his ear.

"Yes. Which hospital? Does she need anything? Do you want us to arrive now? Okay, we'll be careful. I'll put her- Go ahead. See you soon." 

Uncle Daren closed his phone with a snap. It looked heavy. He put it away.

"We're going to the hospital. Are you ready?"

Did it matter? "Yes."

"Good."

She followed her Uncle Daren to the door. He opened it for her, and the summer sun bit her eyes. That was when she first saw the car. As he was closing the door he snatched her up and hissed, spinning her behind his back so she could see it. He put her down between him and it. 

The car was terrifying. There was no line between it and its shadow, nor around the wheels. It might be rising up out of a hole. It was all smooth and graceful on the driveway, coiled and lithe, with a low, flat head and two sharp daggers of lights. They were going to get into that.

"Go ahead, Jusu," her uncle told her, leaning down behind her.

She trotted away, but the door clicked open before she touched it. It swung wide, and the inside was dark. Daren was coming from behind, and he shut her in. For a moment she was alone again, and she couldn't figure out the seatbelt.

Uncle Daren climbed in and latched up. He looked over at her.

"Your seatbelts are stupid," she told him.

"It's a five point," he replied, and then took the buckles out of her hands. He snapped her in, and she couldn't move. But the car moved dangerously fast. Trees raced past closer than in either Mom or Dad's car. They were racing at them. Uncle Daren was furious, a black look on his face because she needed help with the seatbelt. He shifted with deft, angry motions that made the whole car shake. She wouldn't look at him, and the car roared.

At the hospital she ran away, but her mother was waiting for her. That was the last she saw Uncle Daren, for her white grandparents came in that night. Mom and Dad spent two weeks in the hospital. She could see them sometimes, but Jack was behind a window. It was an inside window, and instead of the outside, there was only another room there, even smaller than the hallway where Mom and Dad just stood, all day, every day. It was the inside of the inside, and no one was allowed in. She waited with her parents as much as she could, but they didn't do anything. They just looked inside inside. 

The rest of the time she was with her Mom's parents who had flown down from Montana. They took her home and went everywhere with her, searching for snakes. There were men with them with ropes and nets, and they searched every bush. Then her grandparents searched everything inside, making her look under the couches and in every closet. There were no snakes. They didn't find any anywhere, but they searched until Jusu said they could stop. Then they waited for weeks, and once a day Mom or Dad would come home, get clothes, and go back. 

She saw Sahil a lot. Her older brother still had to go to school, which he complained about. Her grandparents fussed at him but made him go anyway. But he stayed with his friends, so he only came home every few days, less often than her parents. Soon her brown grandmother Grandmama came down from New York, and then the house seemed full. The two old women sat in the kitchen and talked while Granddad took apart the sofa. He said it creaked. If it had, it didn't after he was done with it. She stayed in the kitchen and drank tea. She tried to drink as much as her grandmothers, but all that meant was she had to go to the bathroom all the time. 

Eventually Mom, Dad, and Jack came home and Sahil came back from his friend's house. Jack was very small, and he didn't walk well yet. Now he didn't walk at all but slept in a fuzzy onesie. He had bear ears. Mom put him to bed, but everyone kept sneaking in to watch him sleep. Jusu wasn't sure why. She watched him sleep once to see what was going on, but Jack was just sleeping. He did that a lot.

Dad cried, Grandmom and Grandmama cried with him, and Granddad stood with them. They were smiling, but they cried so hard it hurt. Mom never cried. She didn't cry now, and she'd never cried before or after. She just stood in the doorway, cold, and held Sahil's hand. Mom was terrifying. 

 

The next time Jusu spoke to her uncle was eleven years later. She was sixteen and in jail.

"Uncle Daren! How are you?" she gushed into the phone.

Daren was silent for several seconds. "Jusu," he said, sounding confident.

"Your favorite niece!"

He was about to say, 'my only niece,' but lacked certainty. "Yes. What can I do for you?"

"I just called to say hi, how are you, and can you maybe pick me up from jail?"

"What."

"Everything's taken care of, everything's good, but I need a relative to pick me up."

"Jusu, I'm in Alexandria."

"I know. I'm here too!"

"Jusu, why are you in Alexandria?"

"Because I can't get out of jail! They don't let you out easy. Who knew?"

Daren's dry silence became almost hostile. The girl dropped her bubbly tone and got serious. "Uncle Daren, please. I just need someone to pick me up. A ride. That's it. Please?"

The one-sided silence continued for a long, painful time until the grim old man muttered, "Fine. Which jail?"

"Alexandria General. It's on-"

"I know where it is. I'll be there."

"I'll stay right here!" she replied and hung up. The county phones were old, wired things with heavy steel cables that settled into their cradles like crashing cars. 

It took him long enough to arrive that she was worried. The small waiting room had no windows and one plexiglass door. It was empty for now, save two guards that were complaining about overtime. Jusu sat and waited, staring at the unringing phone, and bit her lip.

"Jusu Kabir!" called a guard at the door, and she bolted to him. 

"Right here, sir! That's me!" she said, and the guard nodded. "Come along. Your ride's here."

The guard lead her to another room, where a determined woman ruled the waiting room. Jusu say her uncle, still wearing a dark suit and gloves, signing some paperwork and taking a folder. She rushed to his side. "Uncle Daren!"

She was about to hug him, but he glared at her. She turned it down again and waited politely.

Outside he lead her to the car she remembered from her youth, low, black, sinister. It looked fast. Daren beeped the door when they approached but didn't open hers for her. Instead he smacked the folder into her abdomen before walking to the driver's side. Inside were the same five-point seatbelts, but she figured it out much faster this time. 

"What did you do?" he demanded after starting the engire but before moving.

"You see, Uncle Daren-"

He snapped twice, angrily.

"I graffiti-ed. Defacing private property and criminal mischief."

"Anyone dead?"

"No."

"Are you pregnant?"

"No!"

"Good." He shifted into gear, and they started moving. While rolling towards the gate, her uncle pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Mara. Daren. Fine. I have your daughter. I picked her up from jail, and she says she's not pregnant." Then he shoved the phone at Jusu.

The girl took it like it was a snake. 'Thanks,' she mouthed, but he'd never taken his eyes from the road. Gingerly she raised the phone to her ear, and eased her head to it. "Hi, Mom."

That was not a pleasant conversation. Jusu's mother was not happy. Mara did not scream, of course. Mara never screamed. Mara was cold and furious, and the girl spoke very little, cringing in the seat until she was almost bent over. Only the odd restraints prevented her from curling up completely until arrival at a parking deck and imminent loss of signal allowed her to escape. She gave her uncle his phone back and didn't say anything until the ice worked out of her ear.

He lead her to his apartment, a small, spare thing with high ceilings and a view that overlooked the river. She glanced out and saw monunents and distant DC. 

"I love the view, Uncle Daren. It's beautiful. You have so many trees."

"That's nice. Find a flight home."

"Yes. Uncle Daren, about that-"

"Don't care. You're going home."

"Uncle Daren, Uncle Daren, please. Just listen for a second," she asked, almost begged, and the dour individual already retreating towards his bedroom paused. "While I was waiting for you, I spoke to the clerk. Graffitti is bad. I understand. But it's not that bad. The clerk said I could do community service and my charges would get dropped. Which is great! But if I leave the area and go back to Chicago, then I get transfered to Chicago Juevenile Affairs, which isn't something I want to happen. If I do the community service before I leave, then I just have to fill out a form and drop it off. See? They gave me a form!" 

She waved a carbon paper at him.

"Not my problem," said Daren.

"Uncle Daren! Uncle Daren, come on. Can I stay here for a few days? Just a few days. You'll never even see me, because I'm doing community service. I even have a place already. It's a food bank. Don't you want me to serve food to the poor?"

"Feed the poor in Chicago."

"Uncle Daren, come on. If I do this now, there's no record of it. I don't want this on my permanent record. Don't you want me to have a clean record?"

"Don't care." He turned and walked away.

Jusu threw herself after him. "Uncle Daren! If you send me home I'll tell my Mom you're terribly depressed, and you need help! I'll tell her you're an alcoholic! I'll tell the grandparents at Christmas! We'll have an intervention!"

She had caught up with him in the short hallway that lead from the common room to his bedroom. It looped around to enter the bedroom from the other side, and the single bathroom opposed it. Daren stopped long enough to let her complete the threat.

"Good luck."

Oh, God! she thought, and darted around, putting herself between him and his room. She dropped onto her knees, clasped her hands, and unabashedly begged. "Uncle Daren, please!?"

"No."

He stepped around. 

"I'll do anything!" she yowled, and threw herself after him again. "I'll...."

Jusu looked around the room for leverage and came up with nothing. He had nothing. There was a bed, an alarm clock, and some clothes. That was it. She had no angles.

"I'll iron your shirts! You need them ironed!"

Daren paused and glanced at himself. "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do! See the wrinkles around the collar and arms! When was the last time you had that ironed?"

Daren looked himself over and pulled off his jacket. He examined the shirt for wrinkles. "Those are just because I'm wearing it."

"When was the last time you ironed your shirt?" Jusu insisted.

Daren was not immediately forthcoming with an answer. "It happened."

Jackpot! The girl made sure to keep a straight face. "Uncle Daren, with a suit like that, you need to iron your clothes. I can iron them. I will do all of the ironing."

"You probably don't even know how to iron," he muttered.

"Uncle Daren, I'm a girl. We know these things." Idiot uncles. They believe anything. 

"What? It's a sex-linked characteristic?" he demanded. "How exactly would you have protein expression result in skill with a clothes iron?"

Idiot uncles who argue genetics. Really? Really?

"Uncle Daren, just take my word for it. I know how to iron."

"No. Prove it."

"Sure! Where's your ironing board and iron?"

"Don't have one."

"Then how am I supposed to prove it?" she yelled.

"Not my problem," replied Daren and pointed to the door,

"Uncle Daren!" she wailed, and desperately played for time. Looking mournful, she picked a shirt off the floor. It was horribly rumbled about the belt line, where a laundry tag remained. Jusu stared at it, realizing he probably had his shirts done at a cleaner. Of course he wouldn't have an iron. "Let me just-"

"No. Put that away."

She looked at the shirt. She needed some angle. She needed an opening. She needed anything to work with. She looked back at her impenetrable old uncle and walked slowly to the closet. It was full of hangers and plastic dirt sheathes. Jusu sighed and pushed the clothing to the side so she could hang the shirt up.

There was an ironing board attached to the wall.

"Uncle Daren, you have an ironing board right here," she said.

He moved to look over her shoulder. Jusu, holding a hanger, looked between him and the board, looking for some hint of guile or trickery. There was none. He stared at it like a dog confronting a doorknob.

"That's not my problem," he decided.

"You're right. It's not, Uncle Daren. It's not a problem at all. Do you have an iron?"

"I neither know nor care."

"May I look?"

He looked displeased. Daren reached for an excuse to say no. He didn't find one. "No."

"Come on! Just let me look!" she wailed.

"Fine."

Instantly she snooped and discovered her initial survey had been right. He had nothing.

The bed was one of those metal frames that come when you buy a mattress. There was nothing in the closet but business wear and fencing gear. She asked about it, but he didn't answer. There was no place else to look, so she went to the bathroom which had a small closet. Nothing there, not even spare towels. There was a small linen closet, which had very little. She asked about his sheets. Daren was not interested in discussing his sheets. Getting scared, she returned to the main room and searched the kitchen. He had nothing. There was no food. There wasn't the remnants of food people call no food. He didn't have a few half-empty containers of ketchup. He didn't have salt. Putting together a plan to get him to buy an iron, she turned to the coat closet, and found one in an unopened box, underneath a "New Tenant Move-In" folder.

"Uncle Daren, how long have you lived here?" she asked with a hint of awe.

"Fifteen years or so."

Jusu looked at the folder, and noted that it did list 'a high quality iron' as one of the free gifts new tenants received. It didn't seem possible.

"You have an iron." She put the folder back and filled the iron from the kitchen sink. It sputtered and gasped before producing water. Her uncle watched irritably. To prove a point, she plugged the iron in and waited, and soon it was happily puffing steam. While she waited she pulled out her phone and Googled, 'How to iron a dress shirt.' 

"All right. Let's go."

"Where?" demanded Daren.

"To your room. You wanted me to prove I can iron. I'll show you."

Daren glowered at her. Her glowered at the iron. It was a strange and dangerous interloper, one he did not like finding in his apartment. Jusu decided he was just going to say no again, so she took the iron and went to his room herself, setting up the ironing board and going to work.

It was a piece of cake. She did most of it inside a minute, and then slowed way down, taking a good ten minutes to finish. Afterwards, she stopped to appreciate a job well done. "See those nice creases? Doesn't that look good?"

Daren muttered at her, something about damn kids. 

"Come on. I know you have a lot of shirts. You can take them in, but then you have to go somewhere, talk to people, endure human contact. I can do them all right here. You don't even have to leave work." She gave him her most inviting smile. 

"Eh, I don't know," he grumbled.

"Come on. I'll even clean. I'll clean everything. I'm a girl. I know how to clean."

"You keep saying that. What does that have anything to do with-"

"Do you wipe the dust off the top side of your fan blades?" she asked, pointing at the ceiling fan.

Daren was silent for another long while. "Why in God's name would anyone do that?"

"Exactly!" Jusu pounced, punctuating her shout with sharp finger motions. "But I know how to do it!"

"How?"

"Because I wasn't raised by wolves!"

Jusu recognized something subtly different about this silence, but couldn't place it. She hoped.

"Some wonderful people are raised by wolves," Daren deadpanned.

"Awww. Your first joke! It was good. I liked it." Jusu nodded admiringly.

"Go away."

"I found a vaccum too! I'll vacuum the floors!" she offered.

Daren turned his back and walked out, and she scampered after him.

"You've got to do the tile too," he said, wiggling a finger at the kitchen.

"I'm a pro." She winked at him.

"And the whole kitchen."

"Not a problem."

"Bathroom."

"Uncle Daren, I will clean your whole apartment. I'll clean the stuff you don't know you need to clean."

"I think I know my own apartment," he retorted, and she knew the argument was coming. 

Missplay, she thought, but not too late. "When was the last time you changed your air filter?"

Daren paused. "What air filter?"

"Any of them."

"I changed the ones in my car a few months ago."

"And I bet you did a great job," she encouraged him. "Did you do the one in your home AC?"

Daren blinked and scowled.

"My brother has allergies. My Dad has to do it every few months," she added, worrying she'd pushed too far. Calm down, Jusu. Calm down.

"All right. Fine."

"Thanks, Uncle Daren!" she exclaimed and leaped in to hug him with huge puppy eyes. 

Daren shoved his hands to the ceiling. "Why are you touching me? Go away!"

"Sure thing!" She retreated and went for double finger-guns, making little pew-pew noises. Her uncle looked so disgusted he fled back to his room.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Once he was gone, she leaned over the sink, hands on the counter, and breathed. Her black hair hid her face. For a while she sighed, and then went out on the balconey. It overlooked the Potomac River, lording over small buildings inbetween. The spire of the Washington Monument rose, near the marble dome of the Lincoln Memorial, and in the other direction she saw a bouncing bridge and a great ferris wheel. Jusu took some time to steady herself. Then she made careful sure that Daren's window was closed, as were all other windows that could overhear her, and she called her mother.

"Hi, Mom," she said when Mara answered.

"Yes. Jusu. We need to talk," said Mara in chilling quiet.

"Yes. I just to let you know what's going on first. Uncle Daren said I can stay at his place until my community service is done. That way nothing gets put on my record."

Her mother paused in preempted silence. "Daren is letting you stay with him?"

"Yes, Mom. He's still got the sleeping bag from when I was younger. I'll be on the floor, but he's got really thick carpet."

Her mother did not respond, digesting this. Jusu decided to push.

"I think he wants the company. I promised I'd clean his place, but you know how tiny it is. It's like half-an-hour of work. He looks lonely. He said I can stay here until I finish my community service."

Mara followed up on that. "Yes, Jusu. About your community service. Your father is not going to be pleased."

"I know, Mom, and you know how angry Dad gets. But if I do this, then by the time I get home, everything will be done. By the time I see him, everything will be taken care of. If it gets done, it's done. It's taken care of."

"Sweetie, you are in so much trouble," said Mara.

"Yes, Mom, but you know it will be better if my community service is done. That way neither of you have to drive me anywhere, and you know Dad's going to be angry because he's scared. Well, it will already be done. The court will send me a letter saying everything is dismissed, so Dad doesn't have to worry about this cause me problems later in life."

"Jusu, your father is not the only one who's mad at you right now."

"Of course not, Mom. But I am talking to Uncle Daren," she said, drawing it out.

She knew her mother was thinking furiously. 

"I even talked to him about Christmas," she added.

"What did you say about Christmas?" Mara demanded.

"Not much. I just mentioned it," Jusu said. "But I said I was going, and he didn't get mad, and he didn't say he wasn't going."

"Is he going?"

"I can talk to him about it," Jusu replied. She made herself look innocent. "But only if I have your permission to stay. Otherwise I'll get on a flight tonight."

For the first time Jusu noticed the similairities between her mother and uncle. They both did the same long, silent thing, where the wheels turned and purred.

"Could you talk to him before you fly?" asked Mara.

"Well," Jusu hesitated. "He didn't really want to talk about it. Like I said, we didn't talk much. It just came up in passing. I mean, I could sit down and try to have a talk with him about it-"

"That won't work," muttered Mara.

"If we're friends, maybe he'll say he'll go for at least a day or so," Jusu suggested.

"Sweetie, you're not nearly as adorable as you think your are," said Mara. "I like you, but I gave birth to you. I went through too much trouble bringing you into this world to realize how annoying you are."

"Uncle Daren said I could stay," Jusu replied, shrugging. 

"I want to hear him say it," Mara said.

Jusu winced. "Ah...."

"No. I want to hear him say you can stay."

"Okay, Mom. I'll go talk to him now. I'll call you right back."

"Do that. Be quick."

The girl hung up and cringed. She spent a long time on the balconey, making faces, until she noticed there were already faces on the balconey. Wooden ones lined the corners, carved and weathered. Jusu stared at them and decided they were an opening.

Inside she knocked on Daren's door. 

"What?" he yelled.

"Can I ask you about the statues on the balconey?" she yelled back.

They had one of those long silences she was getting used to. Daren opened the door a crack. "What about them?"

"Can you show me them?"

"They're on the balconey. Go look. Don't fall."

"Come on, Uncle Daren. You know I won't know everything about them. Tell me what they're of."

"Wood."

Jusu took a deep breath. "You know what I mean."

"Fine. Let me get my knives."

That was a little odd. "Okay."

She waited, and he reappeared with a small bundle. She hadn't seen it before, but that wasn't an issue now. Following him to the sliding glass door, she waited until he was opening it to mention, "By the way, my Mom wants you to tell her I can stay."

"You do it."

"She wants you to do it."

"No."

"You have to. She doesn't trust me. That whole getting-arrested thing."

"Not my problem."

"Uncle Daren, come on. If I have to fly out, I have to fly out tonight, and then I need to get ready. Would you just call her?"

 

"You call her."

"I'll call her," agreed Jusu and did so.

Daren looked displeased.

"Hey, Mom. It's me. Uncle Daren's about to run out to door, but here he is."

She wiggled her eyebrows at him, encouraging him to observe how she'd limited the conversation. He did not. He looked ill, but he took the phone and said hello.

"Mara. She can stay."

"Thank you, Daren," said Mara. "We really appreciate this."

"Sure. Give her hell when she gets back."

"Oh, don't you worry about that," breathed Mara.

Jusu, who couldn't hear her mother's reply, winced.

"Good." Daren gave the girl back her phone and went outside.

"Well, Mom?" asked Jusu.

"When will you find out how long you're staying?"

"I'll go to the food bank tomorrow, and talk about my schedule then. I can call you tomorrow."

"Do that. You're really in the dog-house for this one, young lady."

"Yes, Mom."

"However, somewhat less of a dog-house..." Mara did not finish, but her daughter understood.

"Bye, Mom. Love you!"

"Love you too. Don't be cute," and Mara hung up.

Jusu looked up at her uncle. He was thumbing a short whittling knife. "See? Quick."

"Do you actually want to see the statues or not?" demanded Daren.

"I do," she assured him and dipped out, shutting the door behind her. She was very attentive and asked many questions, to which Daren always replied with a guarded, suspicious look followed by an answer. But she remembered details and asked questions building off the previous ones, so eventually he grudgingly believed her. A little.


	3. Chapter 3

3

When the voices in Jusu's head told her she had been chosen to save the world she naturally assumed she had gone insane. That was disappointing. She was only fifteen, and that was that. Now she just had the long, slow descent into straitjackets with a brief intermission of cats.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," snapped the voices. "You've been chosen to save the world. This is a great honor."

"Of course it is," she agreed and mourned. She wouldn't have a chance to go finish high school. Her friends who had been to prom said it was tons of fun. She'd never know. She would know only cats.

"No, seriously. Cut it out. Your worthiness has been determined, but first you must take the test. Only then will you have the ability to fulfill your destiny, save the world- Girl, pay attention!"

"Cats! What? Sorry." Jusu startled and spoke out loud, which was sadenning. It had begun. She looked around to see if anyone had noticed.

No one had because she was sitting on a park bench in an empty playground, wasting forty five minutes. Across the street George Washington Carver High School sat in Saturday morning stillness. Several sports teams had already apportioned out the fields for practice, but the parking lot was mostly empty. Soon she would have to report in, get her trash-bag, and perform two hours of cleaning detail. It wasn't her fault. Well, it wasn't really her fault. She had thrown the bottle on the ground. But everyone threw bottles on the ground. Jusu just had a singular super-power, the worst of all super-powers, untouched by comic books and movies alike. Jusu always got caught. Ergo she had Saturday detention. Maybe the unfairness of it had driven her mad. 

The voices had started talking again, but she interrupted to ask if saving the world was litter related. "If at all possible, I'd like to get this and detention done at the same time," she explained.

The voices were confused and stymied. Good. It would serve those voices right.

"What are you talking about?" the madness demanded.

"Saturday detention. I have to be at school in a bit to pick up trash. My Mom dropped me off on her way to work, but she had to be there early so I'm wasting time. Anyway, can I save the world while serving detention? I'd like to do both at the same time, if possible."

"No!" Madness was indignant. 

"Which is a shame, because I'm really a good student. I was even thinking about getting the bottle in the trash, I just missed. I shouldn't get detention for being bad at basketball. This had better not go on my permanent record. How many A's do I need to counter one Saturday detention? It can't be that many. It should be multiple detentions per A. Math requires about four Saturdays a quarter for studying, so I think each A should be four detentions. Isn't that reasonable?" she asked the voices.

"We're getting off topic." The madness sighed and gave the impression it was rubbing its temples. "I just explained all of this, but since you clearly weren't listening, allow me to summarize. Go dive in a pile of poison ivy."

The girl was silent for several long seconds while she got a handle on that.

"No!" she finally retorted into the teeth of howling insanity.

"We went over this! You can't save the world if you're allergic to poison ivy, and there's only one way to tell. The Vyrendeen are wreathed in poison ivy and thorns to keep out intertruders, and you'd never make in if you're allergic. Some people aren't, and we're almost certain you're one of them. Ninety nine percent certain. Ninety nine point nine percent, but we need to be sure. So you just mosey over to those oily vines over there and wade around in them a bit, and then in a day or so-"

"No!" interrupted Jusu again, because the howling madness was just getting crazy. "I'm not going to do that!"

"Jusu!" yelled the madness. "We're trying to save the world here!"

Going insane wasn't terrifying as she had feared; it was more irritating. The nightmarish hellscape of her mind was actually just really frustrating, like her little brother was constantly bugging her, asking for a cookie she didn't have, until finally she left the park and went to detention early. She put on her headphones and selected the loudest music she had, which was when she discovered she's taken the wrong headphones from her backpack. The ones she had didn't fit her music player. Then there was nothing to do but ignore the madness while she waited for the disciplinarian.

"What are you in for?" asked Mr Mack, a short man with a shaved head, big ears, and more patience than his reputation acknowledged.

"Littering," she answered.

"First time?"

"Yes."

"Good. Don't do it again. No one likes saturday detention, so don't litter and neither of us will have to do this again. You?" Mr Mack asked the other student who was waiting outside his office with Jusu.

"I was late," replied Juan. Jusu knew this because for detention they were required to wear nametags.

"First time?"

"No."

Mr Mack was standing in the doorway of his office, a pair of trash bags and work gloves for them in hand, but he retreated slightly to glance over his papers when Juan admitted he was a repeat offender. The disciplinarian looked up to give them their equipment.

"Juan Espenoza. This is your fourth time here this year."

Juan shrugged.

"How do you get to school?" Mr Mack asked.

"I take the bus."

"School bus or public?"

"Public."

"Which one?"

"J12."

The disciplinarian had a complete bus schedule in his office. It made things easier. "Juan, that's not going to work. It stops two blocks away at seven eighteen. The second bell is at seven twenty. You've got to take an earlier bus."

"The earlier bus is an hour earlier!" Juan argued, dropping the surly grunting. "It gets here at six twenty, which means I've got to wake up at five AM! I'm not doing that!"

"That-" Mr Mack sighed. "That's pretty early. Are there any clubs or anything that meet before school you would be interested in?"

"Not worth waking up at five AM."

Jusu had thus far remained silent, watching their exchange. She didn't want to draw any attention to herself. Juan, she noted, wasn't really as mad as he appeared. He was more frustrated and looked tired. Mr Mack also wasn't mad. He looked like he wanted to agree with the boy, but rules were rules and he was the school disciplinarian. 

"Can you take a different route or a school bus?" she asked.

"The school bus comes to St Peter's at five forty. It's cheaper, but I still have to wake up at five to make it."

"Excuse me," interrupted the adult. "You're not paying for the bus, are you?"

"The school bus?" asked Juan, confused.

"No, the public bus. You know you can ride it for free, to or from school?"

Neither of them knew this. They looked at him surprised.

"So you're paying to ride the bus to school?" exclaimed Mr Mack. "No, don't do that." He retreated, printed something, and reappeared with a couple of forms. "I don't know why no one knows this. We put it out over the announcements."

"Which I didn't hear because I'm always late," argued Juan. 

Mr Mack shrugged. "Well, you know now. Fill this out and mail it in. You get a card with your picture and the bus lines you can use on it. You swipe it like a credit card and get free access. Some drivers don't make you swipe, but that's on them." Mr Mack did not further clarify that this meant one could, in theory, ride any public bus, any time, any where, for free. That was not his job.

"Hey!" yelled a third boy, coming running around a corner. He arrived flushed, out of breath.

"Who're you?" asked the disciplinarian.

"Anskar," said Anskar. He was not wearing a nametag, but Jusu bravely leaped to conclusions.

"Let me guess. You're here because you were late to school."

"Well, yeah. I mean I just showed up."

"No, you have saturday detention because you were late to school."

"Oh, yeah. That too."

Anskar was another first timer, so with the same short lecture Jusu got, the latecomer received his trashbag and gloves, and they were all sent out.

"Just show up on time and don't litter!" yelled Mr Mack as they left. "Then none of us have to be here!"

 

 

One of the secretaries stopped them and made Anskar put on his nametag. They weren't sure why she was here on the weekend but didn't ask. Then they made a long, looping circuit of the school, collected bits of litter. Jusu explained to Anskar the way to get free bus passes, which he hadn't known either. They had stilted conversations and made another loop of the school but still had thirty minutes. They started on a third.

"There're some cans," said Ansker to fill the silence.

"Nah, they're in the trees. There's probably poison ivy in there." Juan indicated they should keep walking.

"Jusu," prompted the madness suggestively.

'Shut. Up,' retorted the girl. She noticed the two boys were looking at her curiously, and she worried she'd said that out loud.

"Jusu," the madness continued its urging.

The girl deliberately walked away from the cans. 

"Um, am I-" began Anskar but didn't finish.

"Are you what?" asked Juan. There was a peculiar hitch in his voice the other two didn't notice.

"We have to fill these bags," said Ansker. "Will they keep us here if we don't?"

Juan didn't press. "Yeah, but you just raid the dumpster."

"So we go to the dumpster," ordered Jusu, who was now some distance from the cans, the trees, the other two, and any poison ivy.

Everyone feigned bored looks while they tried to guage the others. In terse silence they went to the dumpsters.

The dumpster hutches were grey cinderblock boxes with mesh fence gates. Sometimes the gates were locked, but students could always raid a trashcan. Walking more assertively than the boys, Jusu arrived well ahead of them and immediately entered the hutch. It was shadowy and stank exactly as expected. There were several large, conex-sized dumpsters that required climbing to access, but also several smaller ones that had sliding doors. Jusu put her bag down and was yanking a sliding door open when the boys arrived.

No sooner had the door opened than a raccoon leaped out and beat her about the face with a long vine of poison ivy.

The boys started screaming and Jusu wanted to join in, but God forbid the vine get in her mouth. 

Instead she grabbed the furry thing and threw it away. It landed outside the doorway. Juan stared at it in shock, and it rushed him, lashing him with the vine too. Juan completely flipped out. Anskar fled and found, horrified, the raccoon chasing him down. 

Jusu staggered out of the dumpster hutch, wild-eyed and panicky, and found Juan on his knees looking traumatized. They screamed at each other.

"This ---- didn't ---- happen in Narnia!" observed Juan. 

Moments later Anskar appeared and shouted something, the first and last words of which were 'what the' and 'was that?'

"We could have avoided all of this in the first place," interjected the voices, and Juan yelled, "Who is saying that!?" into empty space.

Certain social veils came down. 

"Did you hear that?" demanded Anskar. "The voices?"

"The madness?" replied Jusu.

"The MADNESS?" screamed Juan. "What's the madness?"

"Well, when you hear voices you're going mad!" screamed Jusu. "So the voices must be the madnes!"

"Then what are the morning announcements? Incipient horror!?" screamed Juan.

"That depends on whether I did Col Clark's homework," said Anskar.

The two screamers stopped and looked at him.

"I mean, technically-"

"You, shut up," said Juan.

"All you kids shut up!" yelled someone from the secretary's office. 

"We're doing something here!" yelled Juan.

"Going mad," added Jusu.

"Do it quietly!" yelled the adult.

They retreated around a corner, where their voices did not echo. They stood conspiratorialy close. 

"And you!" Juan hissed at Jusu. "What are you on about?"

"I'm not on about anything," she grumbled.

"Yes, you are. What's with all this madness talk?"

"I'm just saying it's the reasonable conclusion," she muttered.

"If you were mad, you wouldn't be reasonable. QED, either it isn't reasonable, or we aren't mad."

"Dr Horn is," interrupted Anskar.

If looks could kill, they tried to murder Anskar.

"She's the school psychologist. She works in the secretary's office," said Anskar. He pointed back over his shoulder. "That was her yelling at us."

"The voices are telling me to murder you now, Anskar," said Juan, pinching his nose.

"No, we're not!" retorted the madness.

The three kids froze. They looked at each other. Juan was the brave one first. "I heard that. Did both of you?"

"Yes," said Anskar.

"Maybe," said Jusu.

"Don't be cute. Did you hear it or not?" demanded Juan.

"Yes, fine, I did," she muttered. 

"Okay. So we're all hearing voices?" Juan repeated.

"Yes." Anskar was firm.

"A little." It was no one's business but Jusu's what voices she heard.

Juan thought very clearly. "Okay, voices, can you hear me?"

Nothing happened. They spent a minute or two in silence.

"You have to say it out loud," said the voices in all their minds. "We can't look in."

"We wouldn't even had this problem if you'd just done as we ordered. Kids these days, no respect for their elders. When I was young, if an adult had told me to jump in poison ivy to save the world, I'd have said, Yes, ma'am! and dove right in," added other voices.

"Well, you're just stupid," said Anskar out loud.

"You little-" hissed the madness, and then the voices fell to bickering.

"Hey, we have to move," said Juan. "We can't be caught taking trash out of the dumpster. I'm not saying they don't know, but we can't make a thing of it. Madness, are there going to be any other problems if I go in there?"

"No, go ahead."

They filled their trashbags, dropped them off, and Mr Mack gave Juan a printed bus schedule. He'd been on the phone with Chicago Transportation Authority. There was a chain of connections that got him to school eleven minutes early and he didn't have to leave his building until six thirty.

"Oh." Juan looked at the sheet in perfect shock. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Don't be late and don't litter!" Mr Mack yelled at the three of them, and slammed the door to his office. 

 

The next day after school the kids found each other and had the 'what was that?' conversation. No one else was in the school library, but they sequestered themselves in a study room for even more privacy. Also, they were paranoid. 

Juan asked the question itself, but Jusu asked, "You both heard it right? Voices? Crazy people voices?"

"Well," Anskar vacillated, but Juan was more direct. 

"Yes. We did. I know I did, and I'm certain you did too," he said to Anskar.

"Anyone got any bumps?" asked Jusu.

"What do you mean?" replied Juan.

"Bumps. Like, poison ivy bumps." No one did. "Anyone had it before?" No one had.

"That isn't really that unusual. We live in Chicago, and there's not exactly deep woods around here," said Juan, but Anskar disagreed.

"I don't really live here," he pointed out. "I live in Cambridge, Minnesota. I'm just here for a year for my Mom's work. I grew up playing in the woods all the time."

"Is there a lot of poison ivy around there?" asked Juan.

"Never noticed it, but I've never had it. Could be I'm just immune."

"We all could be immune."

"That was the point, right?" asked Jusu. "It's what the voices kept asking me. They wanted me to find out if I wasn't allergic to it, and they wanted me to roll in it to be sure. When I didn't, when we didn't, they had the raccoon attack."

"And it didn't really attack. It didn't bite or anything," Juan added.

"It attacked me!" asserted Anskar. "It chased me down!"

"But it didn't bite you at all?" demanded Juan. "It just exposed you to the poison ivy. It was just testing."

"Which was real jerk thing to do!" snapped Anskar.

"Anyone heard anything today? Any voices?" Jusu was trying to keep them focused. Both declined. She reported things had been quiet as well.

They looked around at each other. "So what?" Anskar asked. "What do we do now?"

"You train, Mortal Children," demanded the voices, suddenly returning in the silences of their minds. "At midwinter, you will be summoned. You will save the Vyrendeen or die trying. You have until then to learn what you need to know. Combat. Sorcery. The artifices of clockwork. This is your destiny. Prepare for it or die."

They all stared at each other and waited, but no further instructions came. Jusu realized she didn't even know when midwinter was.


	4. Chapter 4

4

 

None of the three exhibited even the smallest signs of urushiol exposure. Jusu had asked her Dad about it, and he'd explained that even people who 'aren't allergic' typically have slight reactions to it. She was the luckiest of the lucky in this regard, he said. 

"But this isn't a fun special," she argued. They were returning from the hospital and a round of rabies vaccine. Jusu was inwardly positive she hadn't been exposed to it at all but couldn't very well explain this to anyone. 

"I'm jealous," Kalil, her father, admitted. "You'll never have poison ivy, oak, or any of that stuff, and believe me, if you'd gone through it once, you'd feel as special as a princess never having to go through it again."

"If I was a princess I could just not play in poison ivy." She snorted.

"You're my princess."

She made faces at him but felt better.

 

Somewhat akwardly, Juan, Anskar, and Jusu made an agreement to spend December 21 together, and remain in contact over that night. At around dawn midwinter day they met at a hardware store. Dirty grey snow lay thin on the parking lot, but Juan had his brother's truck. Anskar got in with three backpacks.

"So I did some research. Obviously we don't know where we're going, but I've got some general stuff. Rope for everyone, flint and steel, and some of these weird filter straws that claim you can drink anything through them," Anskar explained as the other two went through their backpacks. "Also heating pads, those space blankets-"

He went on, and the other two were duly impressed. The packs weren't that big, but were as comprehensive as possible. 

"Well, within reason," Anskar admitted, disliking limiting his own work. "I had to do it on a budget, so a lot of the stuff is used."

"Do either of you two worry that we're crazy?" Juan suddenly asked. "I mean, group hallucination, mass hysteria, any of that?"

"I very much hope that is correct," Jusu admitted.

"Yeah. Then I'll take the back-packs back, we never speak of this again, and it's a secret we take to the grave." Anskar had considered this at length. 

"But could it be dangerous?" Juan insisted.

"As long as you don't tie yourself up with the rope, I don't think anything really that bad can happen," Anskar said, and Jusu decided she might as well pop that bubble.

"I brought you both knives."

They looked at her in shock.

"High carbon survival knives. Be careful with them; they're illegal in Chicago." She handed the boys their blades. They were giant, serious throat slitters and deer gutters with teflon coated blades. "It prevents rust and the blade getting stuck between bones."

"What could we possibly use this for?" Juan demanded.

"Shanking people. Look, if we're not crazy, we're going to go save the world. Therefore there has to be something that the world needs saving from. Obviously it will be nasty."

Anskar drew the blade. It had a scabbard, like a shortsword, of hardened leather and nylon, and the knife was both lighter and heavier than he expected. It was dense and powerful. It felt serious. "I was looking at these but couldn't afford one."

"I really think the two of you have lost your minds," Juan said.

"Look, all three of us were hearing voices and we got attacked by a raccoon. Also, we're all immune to poison ivy, which is rare, but even more rare all things considered. So either this is, as Anskar said, some crazy nothing that tomorrow we'll just never mention again, or something bad is about to go down. Take the knife, and if you don't need it, give it back tomorrow."

"I'm with crazy knife girl," Anskar agreed.

"Well I'm not going to just drive around with backpacks full of knives!" Juan insisted.

"Which is good because they're really illegal," Jusu agreed. "We should go sit somewhere and wait."

"We can wait here."

"Three people in a truck sitting in a parking lot all day? The cops will think we're drug dealers."

"Also you'll run out of gas, and then it's really going to get cold," Anskar added. 

"But we have the space blankets," Jusu argued. 

"Three people under space blankets sitting in a truck all day? Oh, that's not suspicious," Anskar replied.

Finally they drove cautiously to a strip mall, sat at a coffee shop, and drank hot chocolate and waited. 

"So what did you do to get ready?" Anskar asked Juan.

"Nothing like you two," he replied. There were people around so he didn't into go into details. He looked a little twitchier than the other two. Anskar was the calmest, and Jusu was oscillating between intense readiness and excitement, and incredible embarassment. Juan continued, "I looked up books on people getting taken away to alternate dimensions."

"Find anything?" Anskar asked.

"Tons." He began a survey of the literature. When the coffee shop threw them out for loitering, they moved to another and the conversation tangented.

Juan was originally from Miami. He was second generation Cuban, which made him mad because he said he was native American. "I hate that division. I was born here, I grew up here, and I'm as native as anyone else." He spoke perfect English with a generic Floridian accent neither of the other two could notice, outside of calling pop 'soda.' He was in Chicago because his family had come north looking for work, and the school system in that part of Miami had been terrible. Juan read a lot and was the best student of the three. 

Anskar was, as had been noted, from Minnesota and inteded to return after the school year. His mother was an attorney in the district attorney's office, but not a DA, and in Chicago for networking. "I think she's trying to get a job here. She can't get promoted until someone retires, but the people above her in Mineapolis are all holding onto their jobs for dear life." He was fourth generation Swedish, tall and blond, and wasn't terribly fond of the city. Being stuck here, he had been making the best of it.

"I skate a lot," he said. 

"Are you good?" Juan asked.

Anskar didn't really know how to respond to that, so he said, "Kinda," and started describing various tricks. Neither of the others knew anything about skating, so they nodded, asked questions, and Juan never really got an answer.

Jusu had only been in Chicago for a few years, about as long as Juan. She was from Virgina, so she also called pop 'soda.' This was, Anskar explained, simply incorrect.

"Majority rules," Juan argued.

"Shall we go ask someone? Anyone else in the restraunt?" Anskar replied. "There are twenty people in here. Shall we take a vote?"

"Don't you guys think it's weird that none of us are from here, but we were all brought here by forces outside our control?" Jusu asked, heading off an argument. "And that we're all immune to urushiol?"

"Yes," Anskar replied. "It's because of the voices. Magical powers, all that."

"Okay, but doesn't that mean they exist, and we're not just making it up?" Jusu pressed, and they understood the crux of her argument. 

"Well, we don't know they exist," argued Juan, beginning to make his argument for argument's sake. Arguments were a great way of killing time.

"Mortal Children," interrupted the voices, effectively elliminating that. "The time of the nadir is at hand. Your destiny is afoot."

The children were shooting crazy looks between each other, nodding that yes, they heard it too. 

"What do you want?" asked Juan.

"All three of you must go, now, to the broom closet in the back and pass through that door together," replied the voices. 

Anskar shrugged and rose, but Juan and Jusu vacillated. "Ah, about that-"

"Remember what happened last time?" insinuated the madness. "We've got merrit's aplenty over here."

"What's a merrit?" though Jusu. 

"It's the animal that tested you in the dumspter."

"I thought that was a raccoon."

"Mortal Child, people get bitten saying that," snapped the madness.

"Well, she's never actually seen a merrit," interjected another voice of madness.

"Doesn't matter. She should know."

"Why should she know? They don't exist on Earth!"

"Listen, you tangle-furred little twit-" said the madness, and most of the rest of that was profanity none of the children had heard before. 

"Fine, whatever!" grumbled Jusu, and she rose as well. Juan very clearly did not want to join them, but pressured by the others, he got up as they filed towards the back. They passed restrooms and a walk-in freezer before coming to a small janitor's closet. Anskar tried the handle. It was locked, but twisted peculiarly in his hand, sliding open with a hiss, not a click.

"Ready?" he asked the other two.

"Probably not," muttered Juan.

"Ready," Jusu asserted confidently. She drew her knife from up her sleeve and stepped past Anskar through the door. Anskar followed and Juan sighed and did as well. The door purred closed behind them and burped.

 

They were among foliage. It was dense, shockingly so, dense like a mist. They couldn't see their feet, the ground, or sky. The tree-trunks around them were invisible, but tangible in immense sense of presence. Everything was very still, and the air was hot and thick. They waited and moved so they could see each other.

Juan was first to react. He pointed at his temples, then both of them, grinning with expectant delight. The other two waited. He returned their looks, still excited. Five minutes later they had not developer telepathy.

"So what do we do now?" Anskar asked. "Our first priority is water, then shelter, then food, but we don't know if something else is in here."

"Like dragons?" asked Jusu.

"Yeah, those would be bad," Anskar agreed. He started digging in the ground,

"Are we talking hypothetical dragons or real dragons?" Juan asked. "Like, do you currently see, hear, or smell dragons? Or perceive in any way, so don't pull word games with me."

"I'm just asking about dragons," Jusu replied defensively, and Juan jumped on her.

"Why are you asking about dragons? Why dragons?" he yelled.

"Because magical world! There's usually dragons! Dragons are bad!"

"What dragons!?"

"Seriously, you two need to calm down." Anskar interrupted the yelling with a dry expression and wet mud. "The drainage direction is that way," he pointed. "So that's our best bet for water. These vines around us have an oily layer, and I'd bet they're positive for either urishiol or something similar. We should be immune, but let's minimize our exposure. Especially around the eyes. You'll find goggles in your bags. We head downhill and hope to find a creek or stream. From there we'll establish camp. Agreed?"

The other two looked at him innocent expressions. 

"Sure." 

"Sounds good."

They put on the goggles and moved.

Broad, oily leaves concealed hook shaped thorns on the vines around them, and while Anskar lead confidently, they moved slowly. He insisted they were going downhill. 

"We're not really going straight," Jusu pointed out when they changed direction again.

"I know. The ground isn't straight," Anskar replied.

"Then how do you know where we're going?"

He didn't answer at once but pushed forward a few dozen yards. Finally he stopped, and indicated some leaves. "See how they're growing inwards? Their tips point together, which means when it rains, they form a little waterfall. There's not a lot of true ground cover here, so the water hits the dirt here and forms a little basin. See it?" Anskar pointed. The other two leaned over his head, and indicated they did.

"So we look at the basin. It drained on this side, because you can see little wiggly lines in the dirt. Those lines all run in the same direction, which means that's the drainage direction. Now we go that way until we find a spot like this again, and check. Eventually we'll get to a low spot, and water collects in low spots."

He looked up at the other two to see if they understood.

"How'd you learn that?" Juan asked.

"I spend a lot of time in the woods."

"And no one taught you about poison ivy?"

"I said I spend a lot of time in the woods, not I go to summer camp. No one taught me anything, I just screwed around in the woods until I learned how not to get lost."

"What if a bear tried to eat you?" asked Jusu.

"You ever met a bear?" Anskar asked by way of answer.

"Like, met? Like had a conversation with?"

"No, come across on in the woods."

"I don't really go in the woods."

"Okay, bears don't walk around the woods trying to eat people. If you find a bear, it will pretty much always run. The only time they don't is mother bears with cubs, and then you run and unless it's a grizzley or something, it won't chase you. There aren't too many grizzleys in Minnesota."

"What about polar bears?" asked Juan.

Anskar blinked and lifted up his goggles. "You think there are polar bears in Minnesota?"

"No; I'm just asking about polar bears. Would a polar bear run? I hear they eat people."

"I don't know," Anskar admitted in a weird, confused tone. "Haven't seen too many polar bears in the woods."

"And you yelled at me when I asked about dragons," Jusu told him.

"We're in the woods. There could be bears," Juan retorted defensively. 

"We're in the woods. There won't be polar bears," Jusu shot back.

Anskar lowered his goggles and moved off through the vines. The others had to rush to keep up. They started arguing again, but Anskar interrupted that. "You two are being the annoying sidekicks of this group and need to hush up before I Hansel and Grettel you in these trees."

"I'll shank a witch," Jusu replied, and Juan nodded, pointing to her to affirm she'd do it.

"Just stop talking," Anskar begged. "I'm listening."


	5. Chapter 5

Jusu texted her mother. "Could Uncle Daren be a serial killer?"

Previously they'd been exchanging texts every ten or fifteen seconds, but that one elicited a long, half minute pause in the exchange. Jusu's phone rang with an incoming call.

"What are you on about?" demanded Mara.

"I'm just asking!" exclaimed Jusu.

"Asking why?"

"I'm just asking questions!"

"Jusu!" demanded Mara, and her daughter hastened to explain.

"Okay, Mom, I feel I'm reasonably concerned," said Jusu, getting up off the sleeping bag to walk around the living room.

Daren's barren apartment had changed little in the two days of Jusu's presence. It was still obligatorily furnished with flatware and a set of knives, but still lacked pictures, wall hangings, rugs, anything colorful or decorative, and chairs. Jusu's efforts to remedy this had met with little success.

She'd induced her uncle to buy cleaning supplies, and the multicolored bottles marched across the counter. Initially she'd stored them under the sink as Mara had taught her but decided she liked the color. With them were a set of bright green sponges, blue dust mops, and six little fragrance mushrooms. The carpet shampoo was dreadful for six to eight hours after cleaning, even with the windows open. Jusu turned off the fan she had blowing through the window so she could talk.

First she explained the issue with the iron and ironing board, and admitted that Daren had required a bit more persuading than she had originally implied. Mara did not sound shocked. She sounded suspiciously unshocked.

"Sweetie, I've met my brother. He's a curmudgeon. I know you. I had a pretty fair idea of how your conversation went," said Mara, when Jusu's verbal acrobatics to avoid the matter tied the girl in knots. 

"Okay," Jusu glossed quickly over it. "But doesn't that sound a little weird? He didn't know he had an ironing board in his closet? He didn't know he had an iron in his his other closet? Doesn't that sound a little suspicious?"

"Maybe. What's the apartment like?"

"Oh, you know. It's the same."

Mara was uncomfortably silent. "No, sweetie, I don't know. I've never seen his apartment."

Jusu felt deflated. "What? But he lived here back when we lived in the old house."

"I know. You're the first of any of us to see inside his apartment."

"Yeah, that's really weird," said Jusu.

"Perhaps."

"See, that's why I'm worried. I don't think anyone could not know they have an iron. Not if they have an ironing board in their closet. He has laundry tags on his shirts so he takes most of them to a place, but he still goes into the closet to hang them up. He has to see the ironing board. What if this is all an elaborate ruse to get me into his murder palace?"

They weren't video calling so Jusu couldn't see this, but somehow she knew her mother just put her hand to her temples. "Murder palace?"

"Well, murder apartment. It's really not that big. It's one kitchen, about half the size of ours, a family room that's about the size of Jack's room, a bedroom and a bathroom. But it's a murder palace state of mind."

"Jusu," said Mara, and she had nothing else to say.

"But isn't it super creepy he lied about not knowing if he had an iron?" demanded Jusu, trying to get the conversation back on track. "He had to know! He's trying to trap me in his murder palace!"

"Jusu, you've been cleaning for him, right?" asked Mara in a flat, professional tone.

"Like a boss," she agreed. "What if I'm concealing the evidence?"

"Everywhere?"

"Everywhere."

"Have you found any murder implements?"

The girl thought for a while. "Steak knives," she muttered.

"Murder steak knives?" It sounded so absurd when Mara said it. 

"No, they're still in the cardboard. I'm just worried about being murdered! God! I tell you your brother could be a serial killer, and all of the sudden I'm the bad guy!"

"Jusu, have you been drinking caffeine again?"

If Jusu had been a hurdler, she would have tumbled and rolled at that one. As it was she was standing on the counter with a sponge between her toes, and froze like performance art. 

"Mom, I feel very attacked right now."

"Sweetie, you know how caffeine makes you nervous. I understand you and your friends like to drink coffee, but you know it makes you nervous."

"Mom, this is why I don't tell you things."

Mara hissed on the other end of the phone. Jusu pulled the sponge out of her toes, dropped it in the sink, and put both feet down. To husband her conversational advantage, she climbed off the counter too.

"All right. Jusu, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to. If Uncle Daren ever asks you to do something you're uncomfortable with, don't do it. Call me. If you're scared, come home immediately. We can sort everything out, and no matter how much trouble you're in with the courts, you're don't have to stay with your uncle if he ever asks you to do anything you don't want. Now, does he ever ask you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable?"

"He says 'go away' a lot," said Jusu. "And this morning he asked me why I was still here. And yesterday he suggested I volunteer for the salt mines. Sometimes he sniffs and says, 'God, you're annoying,' and it's really hurtful."

"Jusu, I love you and will defend you to the death," said Mara. "No matter how annoying you are, you can always come home."

"I'm not that annoying."

Mara was more skilled than Jusu, so she didn't even pause. "But he hasn't done anything worse than that? Has he done anything dangerous?" When Jusu declined, Mara pressed for a while, asking similar questions in different ways. She split her efforts between being comforting and firm, until Jusu had admitted Uncle Daren hadn't done anything frightening. He'd merely been old, weird, and grumpy.

"All right. Now listen carefully, sweetie. If, after this, you think there's maybe any reason you should come home right now, even if you don't want to tell me about it, you come home. Call me from the airport, I will buy you a plane ticket on the spot, and you don't have to explain why. This is your get out of jail free card, Jusu. No questions asked," said Mara. 

"Yes, Mom," said Jusu.

Her mother waited. Jusu waited. Jusu resolved to out wait her mother and succeeded. 

"That includes any legitimate concerns regarding murder palaces," added Mara.

"I really think you're underestimating the murder palace angle, here."

"Then come home right now."

"Well, it's not that murder palacey."

"Murder palatial," Mara corrected her.

"It's a state of mind." They talked for a bit, and Jusu got fussed at. Finally Jusu said she wanted to turn the fans back on because the main room was getting a bit pungent. In reality, she just went outside and stared over the balcony, looking at the small houses between the high rises and the roads that snaked between them.

Meanwhile, Mara called her brother. "Daren, are you bothering my daughter?"

"Yes. She's annoying, and I want her to leave."

"It's good for you. Stop being a jackass."

Daren hung up on her.


	6. Chapter 6

"What are you doing?" asked Uncle Daren, coming home from work shortly after midnight. Jusu was awake and adjusting a fan in the living room.

"Setting up my sleeping area. It's too hot in the sleeping bag, so I made a bed with these sheets, and I'm setting up a wind tunnel. Didn't you do this as a kid?" she asked.

Daren shook his head. "Why don't you just sleep halfway out of the sleeping bag?"

"A, then I don't get to sleep in a wind tunnel," she said loftily. Uncle Daren rolled his eyes. She looked at him sideways, and thought of her mother. "And B, then the monsters could get me." She wondered how he would react.

Uncle Daren took this with the same blank expression he usually wore. "But they can't come from under your bed if you're on the floor. Everyone knows the monsters are under the bed. Don't they teach you anything in school?" 

Aw, his second joke. She smiled. "And closets!" she exclaimed and pointed to the tetris-stacked hall closet.

"Touche," admitted Daren. He almost did something that could conceivably be smiling in bad light with a filter. 

"Didn't they have closets when you were young, or had they not been invented yet?" asked Jusu. She opened her eyes wide.

Daren shrugged. "I was excused from monsters class, on account of sleeping with no blankets."

That was sort of weird. Jusu didn't know what to make of it. Was he setting up an age joke? "Why didn't you have any blankets?"

"Oh, I had them. I just don't use them. I sleep with my bare feet hanging over the bed."

"Monsters will get your toes," pronounced Jusu.

"Oh, I wish one would. Think of it. A poor little monster, hungry, starving, just looking for a few toes, and he pops up under my bed and sees his last meal hanging right there in front of him. I wish he would. The last thing that monster would ever see is my eyes glittering in the night as my hands loom over him," and Uncle Daren smiled a smile that touched his eyes. He went quietly to bed.

Jusu was on the phone with her mother in seconds. "He's a serial killer. I am sure of it. I am absolutely sure of it. He's one hundred percent whole-wheat serial killer, and I am trapped in his murder palace, so I hope you're happy and when I never get back, tell Jack he can't have any of my stuff! Give it all to orphans."

Mara sounded like she was reading in the family room. "Jusu, go to bed."

"I can't! I don't have a bed! I'm sleeping in the living room, and frankly, the very thought of one terrifies me."

"You're terrified of beds?" asked Mara. From her voice Jusu knew the book had been put down.

"Beds in a murder palace!"

"Go to sleep, Jusu," ordered Mara. "And we can't give your stuff to orphans. We already gave it all to Jack. He's going through your closet now."

"Probably stealing my socks," Jusu muttered.

"Probably," agreed her mother. Pages ruffled.

"Grrr. Good night, Mom!" she snorted and flumped onto the pillow. Then she unflumped, assembled her wind tunnel, and fell asleep. 

 

While she was at community service the next day, Jack texted her a picture of her socks. He was holding a threatening pair of scissors to them. She scowled and squinted, and mentally inventoried her socks. Those would be her running socks, so he'd gone through her closet and...no, she'd just washed some and thinking about it, hadn't taken them out of the dryer before leaving for Alexandria. But that was only one pair. Which meant he had one pair of her socks on top of the pile and was using his own socks as filler. They could be Amir's socks, but their older brother couldn't care less about his footwear. His socks all had holes in them. So they must be Jack's own socks. She scrutinized the photo and noticed all the labels were hidden. His own socks and deception. 

"You don't have the guts," she replied, and Mr Bonn yelled at her to get back to work.


End file.
